Resistance
by Northumbrian
Summary: A series of linked one-shots set during the events of Deathly Hallows.
1. Beginnings

**Author's Note**

I'm currently working hard on two novel length stories ("Strangers at Drakeshaugh" and "James and Me") Both are first-person, and both have Muggle narrators. I love writing them, and I hope to get at least one of them (Strangers at Drakeshaugh) completed before the year end. However, over recent weeks (while I've been working on the next "Interlude" chapter of "Strangers") I've come to realise that I miss writing from a third-person perspective, and using the familiar setting of Hogwarts. I joined the Golden Snitch Community last year, and became a brave Gryffindor at Hogwarts. Since then, I have been conspicuous by my absence from the community.

The "Tomato Day" Challenge offered the opportunity to write some short, Hogwarts set, stories, so I embraced it. With chapter lengths of 1000-2500 words, these stories will be closer to "Tales of the Battle", "Moon", Moons" & "Epithalamium" than they are to my other stuff.

Prompt 1. Write a story set in the Prefect's bathroom. (10 points)

Bonus prompts: (word) tomato, (word) soil, (object) towel, (dialogue) "Are you sure we're alone in here?", (character) Moaning Myrtle. (5 points for each prompt). This story features all five, so is worth 35 points.

Exactly 2000 words (not including this note).

* * *

 **Beginnings**

'Um… Where are you going?' the Prefect asked hesitantly. The girl was carrying a damp towel, and was standing in front of the door Ginny wanted to go through.

Taking a good look at the far-from-forceful female in front of her, Ginny assessed her options. The prefect was very tall, but her stance was an awkward slouch that rendered her impressive height ineffectual. Her thick black hair gleamed in the flickering candlelight and the flames reflected in the thick-lensed, black rimmed glasses she wore. Unable to see her eyes, Ginny found it difficult to get the measure of this barrier to her progress.

As she faced the Prefect, Ginny dredged through her mind looking for a name. She couldn't find it, but something about the girl made her think of Colin Creevey. That was enough to make her bite off the sarcastic response she'd been forming. Instead, she replied to the Prefect's question with one of her own.

'Are you in the Hogwarts camera club?'

Startled, the girl nodded.

'I think Colin mentioned you.' The girl slumped even further when Ginny spoke the name.

Her suspicions confirmed, Ginny wished she'd paid more attention to Colin's enthusiastic chattering about photography. In an attempt to hold back the waves of concern she felt for her missing classmate, she concentrated on remembering his words. "She's in the camera club with me, and she's been made Prefect! It's amazing! She's really nice, and a technically brilliant photographer, but she wouldn't say boo to a goose. You must know her, she's in our potions class. Really tall, black hair, glasses." The Colin in her mind was, like the missing real person, an enthusiastic chatterbox.

'Have…' the tall girl's voice was no more than a whisper, and her head swivelled frantically as she tried to assure herself that there was no one else in the vicinity. 'Have you heard from… him… is he alright?'

Surprised by the girl's apparent concern, Ginny answered. 'There's a rumour he's on the run, but I don't actually know.' As she reassessed the girl, she remembered another extremely important piece of information, "…she's been made _Slytherin_ Prefect…" Alarm bells rang in her brain, and common sense took over. 'He was a Mudblood, we weren't that close,' she added dismissively.

The girl was obviously shocked by Ginny's response. Even through the distorting lenses of the girl's glasses, Ginny could see her eyes blinking rapidly.

'Granger…' the Prefect began suspiciously.

'Granger was close to Harry,' Ginny snapped. 'I had to _pretend_ to like her. Not that it did any good. That git Potter dumped me! Now, can I go to the hospital wing?' She raised her bandaged hand.

Seeing the red oozing through the bandage, the Prefect went pale. 'Yes,' she whispered.

Hurrying past the girl, Ginny turned the next corner, checked to make sure that the corridor she now stood in was completely deserted, and waited. Listening to the receding footsteps, she was wondering whether it was too soon to check to see if the girl was out of sight, when a voice whispered in her ear. 'Fenella has gone, Ginny, the corridor is clear.'

'Hngh!' Years of pretending that her twin brothers hadn't actually frightened her when they'd rigged a trap or trick, or simply jumped out at her, allowed Ginny to divert the scream and turn it into a rather squeaky nasal whine.

'Sorry. Did I startle you?' Luna Lovegood asked, removing a Disillusionment Charm from herself.

'Of course you didn't!' Ginny's protestation was assessed, and dismissed. She found herself caught in her grey-eyed friend's searching stare.

'You're very good at lying, Ginny,' Luna observed.

'I couldn't exactly tell that Slytherin Prefect the truth, could I?' Ginny replied, still denying her surprise, and answering the question she wanted Luna to have asked. Before her friend could correct her, Ginny gently placed a forefinger on the Ravenclaw student's lips. 'Let's go, before someone else arrives,' she whispered.

Luna nodded, and they crept quietly along the corridor towards the Prefect's bathroom. They'd almost reached their goal, the door where she'd met the Prefect, when Ginny heard a faint noise. She flung her arm over Luna's shoulder and began limping. 'You're taking me to the Hospital Wing,' she whispered.

Luna tilted her head to one side, sniffed, and called out softly, 'It's us, Neville.'

Neville Longbottom was scratching his head as he stepped out from the shadows. 'How did you know it was me?'

'I saw you two hours ago, before curfew. You were helping Professor Sprout in greenhouse three.'

As was often the case, Luna's reply left Ginny, and—based on his expression—Neville, none the wiser. 'What?' Ginny asked.

'Can't you smell the soil on his shoes?' Luna asked.

'Soil?' Ginny asked. As Neville approached, she sniffed. Wrinkling her nose in distaste, she added, 'Whatever that is, it isn't soil.'

'Hippogriff dung, probably,' said Neville cheerfully. 'It's an important ingredient in one of Professor Sprout's compost mixes. This year she's growing as much Dittany as she can; she's worried we'll need it.' He stared at Ginny's bandaged hand. 'It looks like you already do. What happened? Are you badly hurt?'

'No,' Luna interjected before her friend could reply, and turned her disconcerting gaze on Ginny. 'Why do you have a bandage full of tomato ketchup on your hand, Ginny?' she asked.

'It was my excuse to be out of bounds,' Ginny protested, suddenly feeling a little foolish. 'I'm on my way to the hospital wing. It worked, that prefect thought it was blood.'

'Then her olfactory abilities must be severely impaired,' Luna observed.

'What?' asked Neville.

'No sense of smell,' Ginny explained.

'Exactly, if she'd smelt the tomato, she'd have known you were trying to fool her. You told me to be careful, so I Disillusioned myself. You aren't thinking straight, Ginny. You are much too worried about Harry, Ron and Hermione.'

'Let's get out of the corridor and into the Prefect's bathroom,' Neville suggested. 'We can talk inside.'

Seething from Luna's comment, Ginny stoppered her annoyance and turned to the door. 'Damp squib,' she told it. It silently swung open, and Ginny led her friends inside. Bolting the door behind them, she turned on Luna. 'What do you mean, "much too worried"?' she demanded. The stresses of the lies she'd been telling everyone who asked—and herself, she suddenly realised—caused a collapse in her defences. Her façade of indifference fell. 'They vanished from the middle of Bill's wedding. You were _there_ , Luna! The Death Eaters are after them! Aren't _you_ worried about them?'

'Of course I am,' said Luna evenly.

'We're all worried, Ginny,' Neville added. 'That's why we're here!'

'But we're under age, Ginny, and we're at Hogwarts,' Luna continued evenly. 'We don't know where they are, or what they are doing. Worrying won't help them, and it won't help us. Harry needs us to help him, not to worry about him. We need to…'

'We need to plan, we need to resist the Carrows, and Snape, we need to fight back,' Neville's voice was firm and commanding. The two girls looked at him in amazement, and he faltered. 'Don't we?' he asked.

'Damn right we do, mate,' Ginny told him, smiling.

'This is a really remarkable room,' Luna observed. 'I almost wish I'd been made a Prefect. Are you sure we're alone in here?'

'Possibly not,' admitted Ginny worriedly. 'Myrtle!'

The spectacle-wearing spectre floated up through the floor. 'How did you know I was here?'

'Harry,' Ginny began.

Myrtle floated rapidly forwards, stopping only when her translucent nose was inches away from Ginny's. 'Harry? Harry Potter? Where is he?' Myrtle demanded. Ginny tried to focus on the girl's eyes, but Luna had walked behind the ghost, so she found herself looking through Myrtle at Luna.

'Who are you? Are you his girlfriend?' Myrtle continued to fire questions at Ginny.

'Who are _you_?' Neville asked, staring in surprise at the ghost.

Myrtle began to wail.

'You're the ghost of Myrtle Elizabeth Warren, aren't you?' said Luna. 'You're supposed to haunt the girl's bathroom. You're the newest ghost in the school, and the only one who actually died here.'

'You've heard of me?' Myrtle sounded pleased.

'Of course,' Luna said.

'So do I. Harry told me all about you,' Ginny told the ghost. 'You're famous,' she added, remembering what Harry had said. 'Could you do us a favour, could you keep lookout in the corridor. If you see anyone coming, let us know. Please?'

'Why, what are you doing in here?' Myrtle asked. 'Two girls and a boy sharing the Prefect's bathroom? You're plotting something, aren't you?' She peered at them through glasses even thicker than those worn by the Prefect. 'And, none of you have Prefect's badges,' she added suspiciously. 'How did you get in?'

'I'm Gryffindor Quidditch Captain,' said Ginny. 'I was given the password when I got the Captain's badge.'

'And we're simply here to talk,' Neville said.

'You helped Harry,' Ginny said. 'Would you please help us, too?'

'He hurt that blond boy, last year,' Myrtle said.

'He was really sorry about it afterwards,' said Ginny. 'Harry cast a spell he'd read in a book, and he didn't know what it did. Do you know who invented the spell?'

Myrtle shook her head.

'I'll tell you, if you keep watch for us,' Ginny said.

'Tell me now!' Myrtle demanded.

'When we leave,' Ginny countered firmly. 'If you keep watch outside.'

'Huh!' Myrtle exclaimed, silently stamping a ghostly foot. Despite her annoyance, she floated out through the bolted door.

'That was clever, Ginny.' Luna stared at the door. 'Myrtle's a Ravenclaw, she's always looking for answers.'

'If she's going to be here all the time,' Neville said. 'We need to find somewhere else to meet.'

'You're serious then?' Ginny asked.

'Yes,' he told her. 'It's time to reform Dumbledore's Army.'

'There aren't many of us left,' Ginny pointed out. 'Fred, George, Lee, Angelina, Alicia, and Katie have all left school.'

'You forgot Cho Chang, Ginny,' Luna added.

Ginny shrugged. 'And all of the Muggleborn's are on the run,' she added. 'The Creeveys, Dean, and that Hufflepuff boy.'

'Justin Finch-Fletchley,' Neville supplied. 'And Hannah Abbott left school at the beginning of last year, when her mother was murdered. No one has seen her since. That's almost halved our numbers. Even if we assume that all of the others will still be interested, that's no more than a dozen people, including us. I'll speak to Seamus when I get back to the dorm, I know he only attended one meeting, but…'

'Seamus will be fine,' Ginny said. 'I'll speak to Lavender and Parvati.'

'Lavender?' Neville queried. 'Are you sure? She seems a bit…'

'She was sorted into Gryffindor, Neville,' Ginny reminded him, and there's no way I could tell Parvati and not invite Lavender, too.'

'True,' Neville gave a rather reluctant nod of agreement. 'Luna, can you talk to the Ravenclaws? But only if you think they can be trusted.'

'Of course they can,' Luna assured him. 'I'll speak to them tomorrow.'

'Great,' Neville gave her a grateful smile. 'I'll have a word with Ernie Macmillan; there's only him, Susan Bones, and…'

'No!' said Ginny forcefully. 'Zacharius Smith is an idiot, and besides, he hates me.'

'Hates you?' Neville adked.

'I accidentally crashed my broom into him last year,' Ginny reminded Neville.

'Accidentally?' Luna queried.

'Accidentally on purpose. The twins do that sort of thing all the time.' Ginny shrugged. 'I don't trust him, Neville. Make sure that Ernie and Susan don't say anything to him.'

'If you're sure.' Neville nodded. 'I'm going to see if I can figure out how to get into that hidden practice room Harry used.'

'Harry told me how it works,' Ginny said. 'He called it the Room of Requirement.'

'It will be better than this place,' Neville nodded. 'No nosy ghosts to worry about. But Harry's not here, so who's going to be our leader?'

'You!' Ginny and Luna said in unison.


	2. Solitary Badger

**Author's Note**

Prompt 2. Write about a character trying to find the good inside them. (10 points)

Bonus prompts: (word) magnificent, (word) angelic, (character) Blaise Zabini, (word) help, (colour) tomato red. (5 points each). Total: 35 points.

2152 words (excluding this note).

 **Solitary Badger**

Ernie looked across the crowded and noisy Hufflepuff common room. Susan Bones had her head stuck in a book. There was nothing unusual in that, but he'd expected her to come over and speak to him. After all, Neville had approached him first; the newly forceful Gryffindor had waited until the end of the Herbology lesson before speaking to Susan. Surely, Ernie thought, that gave him some sort of primacy. He stared at the dimple-chinned girl, but her angular profile remained unmoved. Willing her to walk over and attempt to persuade him to change his mind was achieving nothing; there wasn't even any movement in her pony-tail. She turned a page, oblivious to his thoughts.

From his lonely sanctuary in the corner, Ernie surveyed the rest of the room, and pondered the polite refusal he'd given Neville Longbottom. His words, "Definitely not, sorry," were gnawing away inside his chest, but he'd knew he'd made the right decision. Given the school's current regime, any resistance, even inside the school, would be extremely dangerous. Without Harry Potter, what could a reformed Dumbledore's Army possibly hope to achieve? You-know-who was in the ascendant.

Why had Neville even suggested it? He, like Ernie, was a Pureblood. All they had to do was keep quiet, do nothing to draw themselves to the attention of You-know-who's followers, and they would be safe. What Neville proposed was tantamount to suicide. Why should he risk everything in a desperate attempt to help Potter? Why should anyone? How long could Potter possibly last? He might even be dead already.

Unable to make Susan Bones acknowledge his existence, Ernie gloomily turned his attention to the four first years crowded onto the comfortable, tomato red, leather sofa he'd always regarded as his own. He glared at them, but they paid no attention to him, either. The sting of words they'd used at the beginning of term, when he'd tried to move them from it, continued to make his mind itch with memories.

' _There's four of us, and only one of you.'_

' _There's an armchair over there.'_

' _You're not so fat that you need an_ entire _sofa to yourself.'_

He'd wanted to protest. It wasn't his sofa, it was _their_ sofa, it was the place they'd bagged in _their_ first year, after they'd met and made friends on the Hogwarts Express and, by some miracle, all been sorted into Hufflepuff. Now, however, there was no them—there was only him. He was friendless and alone, and everyone ignored him. Why should he help? Why should he risk everything for Neville, and for the friends who had abandoned him to this lonely existence?

He attempted to find more pleasant memories. But his mind betrayed him, and instead took him back to the two other people who'd approached him during the day.

' _Been to the Leaky Cauldron recently, Macmillan?' Blaise Zabini asked._

 _Slowly and deliberately, Ernie shook his head._

' _That girlfriend of yours, Anna, is working there.'_

' _Hannah, she's a friend, not my girlfriend,' Ernie's correction was automatic._

' _Hannah, that's her,' Zabini said. 'If she's just a friend you won't mind if I make a move during the Christmas holidays will you?'_

' _Make a move…'_

 _Zabini made a groping motion with his hands. 'I never paid much attention to her while she was here. Let's face it, she was never exactly good-looking.' He blew out his cheeks by way of demonstration. 'But I think I'm going to have to change my opinion about her. Merlin, what a magnificent pair of tits she's got! Who'd have thought she could grow something like those monster melons in just a year? Or were they always there, hidden under her school robes. I swear she could balance a pint on each of them, maybe two! A right couple of handfuls; I'd love to stick my face between them. I might suffocate, of course,' Zabini chuckled, 'but what a way to go…'_

 _With as much dignity as he could muster, Ernie ignored the leering Slytherin, turned, and left. Zabini's lustful laughter made his stomach churn, but Ernie said nothing._

I should have defended her, Ernie told himself. I'm a coward. I can't even speak up for my best friends.

" _Best friends?"_ His mind used his Uncle Angus' voice to speak to him. It was never a good sign. _"A dim-witted half-blood who failed most of her OWLs, and a Mudblood! They're your best friends? Ye're a disgrace to the name Macmillan!"_

" _Och, awaa an' bile yer heid, Angus, ye bigoted auld scunner."_ Aunt Moira's response to her husband made Ernie smile, until he realised that the four first-years were watching his grimaces, and laughing at him. He glowered, but they simply replaced their smiles with expressions of angelic innocence. Even the first-years knew he was useless. Trying to ignore them, he returned to his unhappy remembrances of the day.

' _What did Longbottom want?' Zacharius Smith asked. 'Is he…'_

' _He was asking if I'd heard from Hannah or Justin, that's all,' Ernie interrupted Smith before he could ask about Dumbledore's Army. Ernie had been brought up to tell the truth, and he hoped that Smith wouldn't realise that the final two words of his reply were a lie. Neville had asked about Hannah and Justin, but that wasn't all he had asked._

Taking another look around the room, Ernie was just in time to spot Zacharius Smith averting his eyes. Smith, he realised, had been watching him closely, perhaps Neville had been right. Was Smith trustworthy?

Pulling the letter from his pocket, Ernie reread it. It wasn't long, and he already knew it by heart, but he needed to see her neat and careful script.

 _Ernie_

 _I hope you're well. I'm working in the Leaky Cauldron, as a barmaid. Dad needs the money I make, and Tom managed to persuade the Snatchers that I'm better off here, working for him. After all, I did spectacularly badly in my OWLs, and I only had a couple of weeks at school last year before you-know-what happened._

Ernie paused. Even now, more than a year later, she couldn't write the words "before Mum was murdered."

 _Our friend told me what happened after I left last year. Bad times for everyone. He wants you to know he's fine, and living in a world of his own. He's safest there. We're doing what we can to help, but we miss you._

 _Your friend_

 _Hannah_

"Doing what we can to help." Those words were the ones which resonated with him. Outside Hogwarts, Hannah and Justin were making themselves useful. Ernie was in no doubt that "our friend", was Justin, and "living in a world of his own" meant that he was alive, and in the Muggle world.

Hannah's mother had been killed by the Dark Lord's followers. Hannah was working in a pub and being leered at by creeps like Blaise Zabini. Justin was in hiding. Ernie knew that the only crime his well-spoken friend was guilty of, was being a Muggle-born; these days that was all it took to get someone thrown into prison.

Ernie straightened his back, and leant forward. His two best friends were gone, Hannah's mother had been murdered, and his response was to do nothing. He was sitting alone in the common room, moping. Hannah's words were the alarm bell. They woke him, made him realise how pathetic, what a poor excuse of a Macmillan, he was. Refolding the letter, he placed it back in his pocket. As he did so, he realised that Smith had been watching his every move.

Ernie's grandmother, on his father's side, was a MacLeod, a fierce little Hebridean. She had dispensed her wisdom sparingly, but he would never forget the only occasion he had he'd mentioned You-know-who in her presence. With a slim, stiletto-like forefinger she had poked him in the stomach.

' _Remember this, Ernest; all evil needs is for a good man to ignore it!'_

He liked to think that he was a good man. But if he ignored everything that was going on, if he walked away from Neville and the others, would the man he saw the next time he looked in the mirror be a good man?

No, he decided. He had to make a stand. He was more than simply a Macmillan, he was the heir. One day, though hopefully not for a very long time, he would be the Macmillan of Macmillan. His clan's motto, like that of their Muggle kin, was "Miseris succerere disco"—"I learn to succour the unfortunate". That was what he must do.

Tomorrow, he would seek out Longbottom, and he would rejoin Dumbledore's Army. He would do it for his two best friends, the half-blood and muggle-born. He would do it for Hufflepuff house, and he'd do it to prove to himself that he wasn't the sad, lonely and pathetic boy he was now convinced everyone believed him to be. It was time to prove himself a true Macmillan.

His decision made, he stood and walked straight across to Susan Bones. She lifted her head, and stared at him dismissively.

'Smith is watching us,' she hissed through barely parted lips. He began to turn his head. 'Don't look round, you idiot!' she added.

'Sorry.' Despite the harshness of her words, he knew he'd made an error. He'd never been close to Susan Bones. No one was, he was a loner by circumstance, but she was a loner by design. He'd always been so close to Hannah and Justin that he'd never needed to pay any attention to her. Susan's sibilant scolding was a reminder of how dangerous the path he'd chosen would be. Speaking to her in sight of Smith, so soon after their separate conversations with Neville, had been a mistake. There was no going back, he couldn't undo his foolish action. Foolish action! He had had an idea.

'Slap me!' He suggested.

For the briefest of moments her serious, almost emotionless, face expressed surprise.

'He can't hear us. I have a plan. I've just made an improper suggestion to you, and you're annoyed, so…'

He got no further. Susan stood, and smacked him on the cheek. It was a solid slap, and the loud crack of flesh against flesh resounded around the common room, bringing silence in its wake. All eyes moved towards the altercation.

'Creep,' Susan announced loudly. Slamming her book shut, the fair-haired girl picked it up and stormed off to the girl's dormitory. Ernie, his cheek burning, didn't have to feign embarrassment and pain. He was left to face the still staring occupants of the common room. Zacharius Smith was at his side in an instant.

'What was that all about?' asked Smith eagerly. 'Did you ask her about Dumbledore's Army? There are rumours that Longbottom's trying to restart it. Is he? She was a member, like we were, but none of the others have said anything about it to me.' He lowered his voice conspiratorially. 'I know people who want to know what they're planning. It could do us both good.'

'I don't know anything about Dumbledore's Army,' said Ernie firmly, worried by Smith's words. He was astonished at how easy the lie was. 'I… I misread a signal, and said something I shouldn't have, that's all.'

'Misread a signal?' Smith laughed. 'I've never seen stone-face Bones actually make one. What on earth did you think you saw?'

Ernie shrugged, and let Smith continue.

'She's half-blood like her mother, you know,' said Smith said. 'Unlike _us_. If anyone's likely to re-join Potter's old gang it's _her_. Perhaps we should keep an eye on her.'

 _Hannah's a half-blood, too,_ Ernie thought grimly. He looked into Smith's face, and realised that his fellow Hufflepuff was staring at the pocket where he'd placed Hannah's letter. Realising he'd been right to be suspicious, and forcefully shaking his head, he tried to put Smith completely off the scent.

'I don't think she will,' Ernie said. 'She's too scared to do anything. You know that You-know-who killed her Aunt Amelia, don't you? I thought everyone knew that.'

'Of course I knew,' said Smith dismissively.

Walking across to the fireplace, Ernie pulled out Hannah's letter and threw it into the flames. As he watched it ignite, blacken, and turn to ash, he comforted himself with the knowledge that he knew it by heart; the look of anguish on Smith's face was extremely heartening, too.

'What was that?' asked Smith.

'A letter,' Ernie started with the truth. 'I thought it was from Susan, because that's what it said. I should've realised that she'd never write those things. Someone must've been trying to embarrass me, or her. They succeeded. It wasn't you, was it?'

Lying to Smith was remarkably easy.

'Certainly not,' Smith protested. 'If you need a friend, someone to trust, I'm here for you, Ernie.'

No, you're not, Ernie knew with a burning certainty. He said nothing.


	3. The Visitor

**Author's Note**

Prompt 3. Write about a character with a quick temper.

Bonus prompts: (word) frantic, (emotion) disgust, (word) distraught, (object) silk dress, (character) Augusta Longbottom. Total: 35 points

2233 words.

 **The Visitor**

'Sixteen years?' the overweight woman sounded incredulous. 'We must do something about _that_!'

To emphasise the correctness of her words, she nodded vigorously, confirming that she was in complete agreement with herself. As her loudly expressed opinions echoed down the corridor, her chins continued to wobble their concurrence with her conclusion; her complicatedly coiffured hair, however, remained unnaturally immobile.

Only two hours earlier, Senior Healer Absalom Bibby had met Mrs Carbis for the first time. The ill-fitting but fashionable lime green robes were, he'd first assumed, an attempt to blend in. But they weren't Healer's green, and they simply made her stand out. Perhaps that was the point.

Healer Bibby had already reached a number of conclusions about her. Primarily, he'd decided that this was a woman who not only loved the sound of her own voice, but who was also convinced that everyone else loved it, too. His newly appointed manager was a woman could never be wrong; worse, she was a woman who believed that loudly, and constantly, repeating her ill-informed opinions was all that was needed to ensure everyone else knew she was right.

It was then that Healer Bibby realised that his mind was drifting. He'd been distracted by the unnatural juxtaposition of mobile chins and immobile hair. Realising that it would be dangerous to do anything other than give Mrs Carbis his full attention, he forced himself to concentrate.

'Why are they still here?' she demanded. 'They're a drain on precious resources, surely they'd be better off dead, or somewhere else. Anywhere else! Can't you do something about it? There must be some way to get rid of them. They'll have to go!'

'This is the long-stay ward, Mrs Carbis, and the Longbottoms…' Healer Bibby began slowly as he worked out how to frame a reply that would keep his patients safe.

'The Longbottoms! You're talking about Frank and Alice?'

Healer Bibby recognised the voice, which was dangerously close behind him, and quailed. Turning, his attention was immediately focussed on the tightly-furled cane-handled umbrella; the elderly witch accelerating towards them was brandishing it like a broadsword. The fox-fur stole around the old lady's neck flapped and snapped; the long dead fox's head seemed somehow imbued with the old lady's rage, it almost appeared to be preparing to join in her assault.

Mrs Carbis would, no doubt, expect him to protect her from the wrath of an angry relative, even one as formidable as Augusta Longbottom. In a foolish act of bravery, Healer Bibby tried to interpose himself between Mrs Longbottom and Mrs Carbis. Augusta Longbottom simply elbowed him aside, and he watched helplessly as the elderly witch, incandescent with rage, brought her umbrella down on Mrs Carbis' head. The blow was so hard that Bibby expected head, umbrella, or even both, to break. What broke, however, was the rigidity of Mrs Carbis' hairdo; bouffant collapsed into chaos, leaving nothing but buffoon.

'Ow… Who… Ooh!' Mrs Carbis' angry query was halted by a powerful thrust to her stomach. The umbrella seemed to disappear at least a foot into the folds of flesh.

Winded, and now furious, Mrs Carbis reached for her wand. Knowing what was coming next, Healer Bibby simply cowered in the doorframe.

'Draw a wand on _me_ , would you?' Augusta Longbottom's wand appeared in her hand in an instant.

With a single flick, the old lady catapulted Mrs Carbis backwards. St Mungo's newly appointed Director of Admissions, Administration and Procedures hit the wall at the far end of the corridor with so much force that the walls shook. Another, more complex, wand movement from Augusta Longbottom brought the woman rebounding back along the corridor, bouncing off walls, floor, and ceiling.

When Mrs Carbis arrived back at the door to the Janus Thickey Ward, she was a lime green, star-shaped, balloon bobbing against the ceiling. Her overly bright robes were stretched and scuffed, and her hair was now an immobile bird's nest with a cobweb in it. Noticing the cobweb, Healer Bibby made a note to speak to the cleaning staff. It was then he realised that, given what had just happened to Mrs Carbis, he might not even have a job when she deflated.

'Hmng, hmng, hmng!' Mrs Carbis complained.

'Don't bother trying to talk,' said Augusta Longbottom as she began to calm down. 'I inflated your tongue, too.'

'Mrs Longbottom,' Healer Bibby began, hands out, palms forwards. The umbrella reappeared, this time only an inch from the tip of his nose. He felt himself going cross-eyed as he tried to look at it.

'No!' Augusta Longbottom told him forcefully. 'I will not remove my hex. It will wear off soon enough; she'll deflate in an hour or so.'

Healer Bibby looked up at the woman bobbing against the ceiling, and considered his options.

'I wouldn't try to remove the hex, if I were you,' Augusta advised. 'Remember what happened when you tried to help Healer Furze? Is his nose still purple?'

'But…'

'Who is she?' Augusta thrust her umbrella up at the balloon shaped woman.

'Mrs Carbis is the new Director of Admissions, Administration, and Procedures for St Mungo's.' Healer Bibby chose his words carefully, but it was no use.

'A meaningless title if ever I heard one. Is she a Healer?' Augusta's next question was directly on target.

''No, but…'

'Was she appointed by Pius Thicknesse?' Augusta's final question also hit the bullseye.

Healer Bibby nodded.

Mrs Longbottom snorted her disapproval, and said, 'Thicknesse is an incompetent toady who needs to look good to the people who are really in charge. In order to do that, everyone he appoints will have to be less competent…' she poked Mrs Carbis again, to emphasise her disgust, 'and more,' (the "and" was accompanied by another poke) 'toady!' With her final word Augusta hit Mrs Bibby on the leg. That final blow set Mrs Carbis rapidly rotating against the ceiling.

'I'm here to visit my son and his wife, Mr Bibby,' Augusta had calmed down almost as quickly as she'd exploded. Her voice was pure honey, but the threat of an angry swarm of bees lurked within it. 'Where's Healer Skemp?'

Looking anxiously up at his literally over-inflated superior, Healer Bibby decided that discretion was required. 'I'll let you into the ward, Mrs Longbottom,' he said. Pulling out the key, he unlocked the door and ushered Augusta inside. The moment he'd closed the door, Augusta turned on him.

'Frank and Alice both liked Healer Skemp,' said Augusta quietly. 'And Chloe Skemp liked them. Where is she?'

'You have to understand…' Healer Bibby stopped, because the tip of Augusta's umbrella was now resting gently on his foot. Although there was no pressure, he tried again. 'Times are… difficult…' The pressure on his foot increased by the merest fraction. 'She's been taken away,' he admitted. 'She's being held by hospital security in a room behind reception.'

'Hospital security?' Augusta asked.

Mrs Carbis brought them with her,' Bibby explained. 'Two men, I believe that they're both…' He stared into her face, silently begging her not to force her to say the words.

'They're some of the people recently freed from Azkaban,' said Augusta.

He gave the tiniest of nods.

'Has Chloe Skemp done something wrong?' Augusta asked. 'Other than having Muggles as parents?'

Bibby's eyes widened, the shake of his head was almost imperceptible but it was enough to confirm Augusta's suspicions.

'Frank and Alice were Aurors, they probably captured some of the people Thickness has _pardoned_ ,' Augusta continued. 'Can you guarantee that they will be safe here?'

Healer Bibby felt tears of shame burn his eyes. Overcome, he firmly shook his head. 'Act with care and compassion. Heal without favour,' he repeated the parts of the Healer's oath he held most important. 'But…' He stared through the wall at the point where Mrs Carbis floated. 'Difficult times! We'll do our best,' he promised.

'Under normal circumstance, that would be good enough, young man,' Augusta told him. 'The key, please.'

He silently handed her the key to the ward. She flicked her wand, and he found himself tightly bound by heavy ropes. Levitating him sideways Augusta gently placed him in a position where, when she opened the door, Mrs Carbis could see him. Augusta left the room, casting a Disillusionment Charm on Mrs Carbis, before closing and locking the door.

After about five minutes, Frank and Alice, who were still in their pyjamas because—in Healer Skemp's absence—no one had dressed them, shuffled over to investigate the man lying bound on the floor. Gilderoy Lockheart, engrossed in his own autobiography, simply sat on his bed ignoring everything going on around him.

'Your mother will be back soon, Frank,' Bibby assured him. Frank looked blankly down, and remained silent.

'Hmm,'

Alice's anxious moan worried Bibby. It was difficult to be certain what, exactly, was causing her concern, but she was always disturbed by any change in her routine, so he made a guess. 'It's Monday, Alice,' he began. 'I know that Augusta doesn't normally visit you on a Monday.'

'Hmm,' Alice repeated.

'I'm sorry, Alice, but I don't know why she decided to come here today.'

'Ne-ll,' Frank, arms waving wildly, fists clenching, forced the word out. He rarely spoke, but this was one of the few of his utterances Bibby understood.

'I'm sure your mother would have already told you if Neville was in trouble,' Bibby spoke slowly, wishing that Augusta hadn't bound him. His presence on the floor was another thing that would upset the equilibrium, and the Longbottoms required balance in their lives. 'And Neville can't be here. Term has started, Frank, your son is at Hogwarts, in his final year! Where has the time gone, eh? I'd only just finished my training when you arrived. I did my best for you, you know that, don't you?' As he remembered the dreadful day when the Aurors had brought in the Longbottoms, he felt the tears sting his eyes. Bibby fought to contain them, so as not to further upset the Longbottoms.

The door opened, Augusta returned, accompanied by Healer Skemp.

'Hello, Alice, hello Frank,' Skemp said brightly. She was a solidly built young woman with the face of a Beater who'd seen too many Bludgers up close. 'We're going away for a holiday. That will be nice, won't it?'

'Eee,' Alice's distraught squeal was accompanied by a frantic shaking of her head.

'Alice,' Augusta began firmly.

'Shush,' Healer Skemp ordered. Healer Bibby braced himself for an explosion that didn't come. 'You told me that you trust me, Missus L,' Skemp continued, 'so trust me!'

She turned her attention to Frank Longbottom. 'Oh, Frank, she said. 'You have cornflakes on your pyjamas. No one has tidied you up, have they? Don't worry. Your favourite shirt is clean. Let's go and get you dressed.' Turning her attention to Alice, she added. 'Alice, today is a special day, would you like to wear your special dress? You can go and find it, while I tidy Frank up.'

'A red silk dress is hardly appropriate attire,' Augusta began.

'It's her favourite, and it makes her look lovely,' Healer Skemp's words were bright and cheerful as she glared Augusta Longbottom into silence. 'This won't be easy for any of us, Missus L, but I don't want my wand taken from me, and I don't want to be sent to you-know-where. But going on the run with these two…'

'You can say Azk…' Augusta began, but Skemp cut across her.

'That's a trigger word,' said Skemp firmly. 'We never use it in here, because if we do, it will take hours to calm dear Frank and Alice down, and we don't have hours. Why don't you tell them why you decided to visit today?'

'This morning, I received a letter from Severus Snape,' said Augusta, proudly pulling an envelope from her patent leather handbag. 'A letter that took me back to when you were a boy, Frank. To be honest, I'd forgotten what they looked like. I certainly never thought I'd get one about your Neville.'

Frank and Alice stared at her. 'Ne-ll' Frank mumbled.

'Yes,' said Augusta happily waving the envelope. 'Do you recognise this? I still have every one the school sent to me while you were there, you know! It seems that Neville has been getting into trouble at school. So much trouble, that not only has he been given detention, the Headmaster has also felt it necessary to ask me to reprimand him.'

From his position on the floor, Healer Bibby tried to hear the tone, not the words. From years of experience he knew that tone was almost all that Frank and Alice would be hearing. Augusta's tone was happy, even joyous, and Frank and Alice were responding to it. This was a good thing as Augusta's words were ones most parents would not want to hear.

'I've already written back to Neville, of course,' Augusta continued. 'I told him, "well done" and said that you would both be proud of him.'

A bewildered Healer Bibby watched Alice smile and clap her hands.

'I know,' Healer Skemp told her. 'We're going out to celebrate, Alice, so you can wear your best dress. But we must be very careful, and very quiet, as we leave the hospital.'

'Free me,' Absalom Bibby asked. 'Time is of the essence, and I can help.'


End file.
